


An Ankle and a Hug

by SmartassUndertheMountain



Series: Some Kings are Sweet [1]
Category: The Hobbit (Jackson Movies), The Hobbit - All Media Types, The Hobbit - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Brotherly Love, F/M, Fluff, Happy Ending, No Smut, Protectiveness
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-09-15
Updated: 2014-09-15
Packaged: 2018-02-17 13:57:49
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,915
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2312081
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SmartassUndertheMountain/pseuds/SmartassUndertheMountain
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It wasn't your job to run errands, but this time you did, and now you had a twisted ankle. You can't walk so your stuck waiting for help; you didn't expect for the night to change your life.</p>
            </blockquote>





	An Ankle and a Hug

            Curse that fool of a prince. Prince Thorin had sent you out on an errand to Dale. You, the Book-Keeper. Who sends the book-keeper on errands? Foolish dwarf princes, that’s who. A simple trip to Dale, he said. Just pick up some documents for me. he said. You’ll have fun in town, he said. Liar.

            You looked down pitifully at your ankle. You knew you hated running for a reason, but you had been running behind schedule and thought you could get a few minutes back by running the last bit to the gate. But no, that had been a horrible idea. You had twisted your ankle and couldn’t walk on it. Every time you tried you fell with an ungraceful thud to the forest floor.

            It was starting to get dark and while you knew you could survive a night in the woods alone, this close to the kingdom, you really didn’t want to because it would be cold, wet, and who knew what creatures were out there, watching you. Carefully you crawled over to the base of a tree and laid your cloak out on the ground before settling onto it. First rule of survival was shelter, which meant that your body had somewhere warm to lie.

            You took out your small sword, which everyone called a knife. You liked its small size. It was easily concealed and lightweight. Your mind began to wander as you sat. You would not sleep tonight. That would make you too vulnerable. The documents were tucked in the pocket of your dress and you pulled them out. After smoothing out the papers as much as you could you examined them in the fading light. Heavy parchment, smooth calligraphy addressed them to “Prince Thorin of Erebor.” A female suitor, perhaps? He was about that age, and only female dwarves had such pretty writing. But it was written in the common tongue, the meant it was most likely from an elf.

            Sighing you slipped the papers back into your pocket. You shouldn’t have been snooping and the light was gone. Thorin would be looking for you soon, wanting to get his hands on his papers. You weren’t concerned that they would find you soon. You were on the most direct path to town, the most common. This would be the first place they would look.

            You passed the time by singing softly to yourself. Silly songs and cultural ones. You heard a rustling and cut off mid-lyric. 

            “Y/N?” you heard masculine voices call.

            You waited for a pause to their shouting and responded, “over here!”

            You saw the torch light, then Dwalin, Bofur, and finally Prince Thorin emerged around the bend in the path.

            “Y/N! We’ve been so worried about you lass!”

            “Thanks, Bofur. Just a twisted ankle, but I can’t put any weight on it. That’s what I get for running.” You shrugged off his worry. It really was a pitiful injury.

            “You don’t run,” Dwalin said simply, taking look at your ankle.

            “There’s a reason for that.” You gestured to your lame ankle. “I was behind schedule and running didn’t seem like a bad idea.”

            “Well book keepers shouldn’t be running errands like a messenger.” Dwalin looked pointedly at Thorin, who was looking at your ankle like he could heal it by glaring at it. 

            “Come on, let’s get you home.” Bofur moved to pick you up but Thorin moved quicker. He lifted you as though you were light as a feather.

            “I’ve got her,” he said, and you could feel his rough voice rumbling through his chest.

            “I’m not sure I like you carrying my baby sister like that.” Dwalin looked at the bridal carry that you were in. You arms had gone instinctively around his neck, even though it felt awkward.

            “And what exactly are you worried about, Dwalin? It’s not like he’s going to ravish her in front of us,” Bofur teased. Dwalin’s eyes grew wide and his mouth hung open, too shocked to respond. It was too dark to see, but Thorin’s face had turned a deep shade of red.

            It wasn’t a long walk back to Erebor. You were taken to the healer and your ankle was bandaged. After being told to take it easy for a few days, the three escorted you to your chambers. Bofur trotted away after bidding you a goodnight and quickly healed ankle. Dwalin and Thorin followed you into your room and shut the door.

            “Can I not put myself to bed?” You were annoyed at their hovering.

            “Y/N, there’s something we need to talk to you about,” Dwalin began carefully.

            You cocked an eyebrow. “That’s never a good thing. That phrase never leads to good things.”

            “Well, this might not be a bad thing. Depending on how you look at it...” he paused and you motioned for him to continue. “Father may have, kind of, found a match for you.”

            “A match for me? You better not be talking about what I think you’re talking about.”

            “He is.” Thorin spoke for only the second time that evening.

            “He wants me to agree to an arranged marriage. HOW COULD HE WANT THAT FOR ME?” Your calm demeanor vanished in a second.

            “Well, they think it’s a good match. I mean, you could be paired with worse.”

            “And what if I want to choose my husband? What if I don’t want to be married at all? Did he ever think of that?”

            “We haven’t even told you who it is yet,” Thorin protested.

            “It doesn’t matter who it is! What matters is that someone else is deciding my life for me, and I won’t stand for that.”

            You wanted to pace, but your ankle wouldn’t let you, so you sat on the edge of your bed and fumed silently. You were so busing stewing in your anger that you missed Thorin nod to Dwalin, who left the room. Only the sound of the door clicking shut brought you out of your thoughts and made you look up. Thorin leaned against the fire place, watching you.

            “Where did Dwalin go?”

            “Just out for a minute. He’ll be back soon.”

            “Oh.”

            Thorin slowly walked closer to you and motioned to the bed. You nodded and he sat down. You looked at your feet. It suddenly dawned on you that you’d never given him his papers. You pulled them out and silently handed them over. He took them without question and held them in his hands.

            “Sorry they’re a bit crumpled,” you muttered.

            “No, I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have sent you. It’s just…” he sighed. “You want to know who your match is?”

            “Sure.”

            “Me.”

            “Come on, Thorin. Be serious.”

            “I assure you, I am serious. I am the one your father has matched you with. My father approached him actually.”

            “Wait, what? _Your_ father approached _mine_? Why? Isn’t a prince allowed to choose whom he marries?”

            “Well, yes, but it’s a bit more complicated than that.” He took a deep breath. “A few weeks ago my father approached me…

 

            _“So have you got your eye on anyone, my son?” Thrain asked his son, waggling his eyebrows._

_“Father, please.” Thorin didn’t want to answer that question, not when he had just realized that he had feelings for his best friend’s sister._

_“A prince needs a princess.”_

_“Is that the only reason you married Mother?”_

_“No, but I also married at the appropriate age.”_

_Thorin sighed. He would find out eventually, he always did. “There is one girl who has caught my eye recently, but I doubt you would approve.”_

_“Dwalin’s sister?”_

_“How did you know? Dwalin doesn’t even know.”_

_“First off, I’m your father, I know everything. Second, Dwalin knows. Your eyes don’t leave her if she’s in the room. Though I think she is still oblivious to your affections.”_

_“Don’t call them that,” Thorin’s face scrunched. He hated discussing this with his father._

_“Son, you care about her. I can see it in your eyes.”_

_Thorin watched his father. He saw the man who taught him to hunt as a child and soon he was telling the older dwarf everything._

_“…then one day I looked at her, just glanced at her in passing, and it was like seeing her for the first time. My chest felt tight, like ill-fitting armor, and it didn’t stop until long after she left the room. I feel it every time I think about her or look at her.”_

_“Sounds like love at first sight.” Thrain smiled at his son. “Don’t worry, leave it to me.”_

_Thorin didn’t have time to protest before his father left the room and so he sat there, thinking about it all. Maybe an arranged marriage with you wouldn’t be bad. Surely you wouldn’t object. It was a respectable pairing._

 

            “I should have done more to stop him, or at least told you so you wouldn’t be blindsided.” Thorin finished explaining.

            “Well, hindsight is more clear, I suppose,” you said calmly.

            “Are you not angry?”

            “I am, but I'm more angry at our fathers. You told your father how you felt, true you didn’t stop him, but when he has an idea nothing does.”

            You sat in silence for a while before turning your body to his. “If we are betrothed, should we be alone in here?”

            “Your brother is just outside the door.”

            “Of course he is. So that comment that Bofur made earlier, in the woods when you were carrying me, he knows, doesn’t he?”

            “A lot of people know.”

            “You sent me to Dale so you could make the arrangement without me there, didn’t you?”

            “It wasn’t my idea, but yes. They thought that if you knew about the meeting that you would try to stop it.” Thorin sounded genuinely ashamed, as he should.

            Another silence.

            “I’m sure it could be ended, our betrothal. You deserve to give your heart to whomever you choose.”

            You watched Thorin’s face carefully. You cared deeply for Thorin. In truth you were pleased with the match, but the thought that your future had been decided without your consent angered you beyond words.

            “I don’t want it called off, Thorin. I’m not angry about the match. I’m angry that I didn’t get to declare who I wanted before someone else decided to make it so. To be plainly honest, I’m glad that we have been paired together. I’ve known you since I was a child, half the time I liked you better than my brothers.”

            “You, you are pleased with our betrothal?”

            “More than pleased. I am thrilled. I care deeply for you, Thorin.” You let your hand slide across the distance between you and took his hand in yours. He smiled and squeezed your hand gently. 

            “May I trouble the lady for a kiss?”

            “I did hurt my ankle, I think that kind of exertion could weaken me further…” you teased, blushing.

            “Then would you mind if I kissed you?”

            “I think that would be agreeable.”

            He leaned in and placed a gentle kiss on your cheek, but instead of pulling away he moved to the right a couple inches and pressed a soft kiss against your lips. You kissed back. Slowly you separated and he gazed at you, a soft triumphant smile gracing his features.

            “You’ve made me a lucky dwarf, Y/N.”

            “Just don’t forget it.” You winked and he laughed, pulling you into a hug that instantly made you feel like you were at home.

 

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote this quickly because I really don't want to study right now, and don't we all need a little more Thorin in our lives? I realize the injured-female-prince-coming-to-the-rescue theme is a bit old, but hopefully it wasn't too close to that. As always feedback is welcomed!


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